


Storms to Remember

by PineTrain



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Memory Loss, pinecest - Freeform, tiny bit of smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-12-26 16:36:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12062907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PineTrain/pseuds/PineTrain
Summary: Storm stories are a Pinecest tradition





	Storms to Remember

**Author's Note:**

> Storm stories are a Pinecest tradition

The sky is gray. The air is cool. The wind is restless, yet somehow Mabel feels like everything is still.

She’s sitting in a wicker chair, watching the trees and bushes sway with the gusts, waves rolling up the beach behind them. It’s a strange sensation, that still feeling. She sees the plants sway to and fro almost constantly, yet it is the moments when they stop, when the water drifts softly back into the ocean, that stick with her. That build the mood of the calm before the storm. The peculiar harbingers of the devastation that will soon arrive if not for her.

She wonders if those who lived here in the days before satellites saw these hints, knew what they meant. If they would have merely thought some lesser storm were on its way. A simple rain shower or the vibrant power of thunder storm, all dwarfed equally by the maelstrom now coming. How could they have known any difference in the signs without mankind’s mechanical eyes in the sky?

It’s a somewhat disingenuous question, since she knows the differences by methods that don’t require technology. Still, she understands that such knowledge is only for a select few. Technology is a much easier and more appropriate way for mankind to deal with impending disasters. She can only imagine how many would suffer if the modern world relied on her techniques, so rare and costly to obtain.

A pause in the breeze, and she hears an engine approaching. Mabel closes her eyes to hear it better. It’s familiar, and she’s a bit surprised at that. She had been absolutely sure his van would have died by now, but that’s definitely Big Chel making her way towards the beach house right now.

Mabel stands up from her chair and stretches. She’s been sitting for awhile, just as she has the last few days. There’s not much else to do but wait now that the other residents have evacuated. At least when they were around she had people to talk to. When she was a child, she might have occupied her mind with arts and crafts, but she has long since learned they no longer work. The tension and anticipation are too much.

Big Chel stops in the driveway and Mabel turns to enter the house she’s rented. She pauses at the doorway, another breeze picking up her hair and skirt. When she was young, the former was long and latter short, but now they have switched. She smiles at the memory, as she often does when such changes come to her attention.

She makes her way through the house and opens the front door to find a grizzled, bespectacled man fidgeting with a device next to the van. While his appearance is rough and speaks to years of travel and experience, his hands are delicate with the fine machinery. Both are family traits, though few would expect them together as she does. Stepping onto the porch, Mabel takes hold of the handrail and calls to him.

“Hello!”

“Huh?” he says, his head picking up and looking about until he notices her. “Oh! Um, hello! I, sh- shouldn’t you be, um, not here?”

“Well, here I am,” Mabel says with a smile, “and here you are. Can I help you?”

She sees him sweating a bit, remarkable considering the breeze, and he nervously responds, “I’m sorry, ma’am! I didn’t mean to trespass!”

“But you went onto someone else’s property when you thought they weren’t home? That kind of sounds like trespassing.”

“I, uh…”

“You know, this is why they have laws about who’s allowed in coastal areas during and after hurricanes. So LOOTERS can’t raid innocent people’s houses!

“I’m not a looter!” he says indignantly. “This house is just a good location!” Mabel lets him realize his mistake. “I mean! Not for looting! I’m here for another reason, an important one and location is a big part of it! I could do what I need to do somewhere else, but this is the best place for it and-”

“Why?” Mabel interrupts harshly, crossing her arms.

He wavers, his eyes shooting back and forth in their sockets as he thinks. “It, it’s hard to explain. Like, I can if you need me to, but it would take a while. Just, the point is, this is the best place and…” he hesitates, his hands circling each other as he searches for the best thing to say. “Look, I’ll just go somewh-”

“No, do it here,” Mabel commands.

He shoots her a queer glance, surprised by her sudden acceptance. She gives him a nod to show she means it and he goes back to his preparations. Mabel looks behind her at a sign she carved in the frame of the front door, then looks up the path at the same symbol carved into the mailbox post. This is always the worst moment. When she is so close, but doesn’t know for sure yet.

She reenters the house, swallowing nervously as she leaves the door open. She stands about four large steps away from the door and waits, her hands clasped at her waist. She keeps her face plain as she watches him step towards the door with bags over his shoulders and equipment in his arms. There’s a paranoid flash in his eye when he sees her and a subtle caution overtakes his movements as he begins the final approach. She waits.

He passes the threshold, and Dipper’s head pops up while he blinks. Mabel’s muscles spasm with excitement, but she lets him shrug off his gear before she leaps towards him. He catches her and the momentum spins them around as they both laugh and hug each other as hard as they can.

“PLAH!” they both cough out at the same time, eyes bulging wildly before they release each other from a Painful Sibling Hug.

“Are you ever not going to tease me?” Dipper asks with a smile.

“It’s a tradition!” Mabel grins back. “Let me help you with the rest of the stuff.”

She moves to head outside, but he catches her. “Waaaiiiiit a second,” he says, pulling her close again. “Aren’t we forgetting something?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, bronado!” Mabel says, tilting her head away from him.

“Yes you do, you sneak!” he exclaims, his hand snapping to her cheek and turning her towards him.

Her heart flutters as he kisses her. He still loves her and she’s genuinely surprised, but elated all the same, just like every other time. She pushes back fiercely, determined to pour in every bit of passion and love she has felt for him since the last time she was able. He seems a little stunned at how quickly she went from 0 to 100, but his arms wrap around her in acceptance, one hand drifting to cup her butt.

*WHAM*

The front screen door slams shut in the wind, bouncing open again just as they break away. They share an embarrassed look, a recognition that they should probably get him moved in first considering the weather. As they reluctantly do so, they exchange quick pecks as they pass each other. Even still, the moment is lost, and Mabel is disappointed as she sets a final suitcase down inside the house.

Suddenly, her feet are swept from under her and she squeaks in surprise. Clutching her hands to her chest she finds herself in his arms. Dipper smiles at her and cocks an eyebrow.

“Which way’s the bedroom?”

Mabel giggles and points in its direction. As he carries her there, she wraps her arms around his neck and kisses his jawline again and again. She’s getting as much of him as she can just in case there’s another interruption.

He tosses her unceremoniously onto the bed and she laughs hysterically. Mabel rolls to face him and there’s nothing in his eyes but desire as he mounts her. She loves knowing he still sees her like that after all these years. It’s such an overwhelming feeling of happiness, of course she’s laughing. It’s a feeling she’s missed for so, so long.

“Something funny?” Dipper mutters as his drapes himself over her, dragging his nose up her collarbone and neck, nipping her skin here and there.

“Only your fashion sense,” Mabel teases.

He kisses her jaw then raises himself over her. “Really?” he asks in mock disbelief.

“Yup! What guy in his right mind would wear that shirt?” Mabel punctuates her statement by reaching down and pulling the hem up.

Dipper grins and sits up, pulling the shirt up and off himself. Mabel’s hands fall on his body. He’s gained some weight. He’s getting older, just like she is. She’ll probably chastise him to lose weight later, but for now she just wants him, however he is.

A glint flares in his eyes, and Mabel realizes he’s caught on to her. She grins sheepishly, knowing he isn’t happy with her thoughts, however true they are. Dipper snatches her wrists and holds them over her head, squeezing just enough to show that his strength hasn’t faded, whatever his weight.

Mabel nibbles her lip, excited by his aggression. It took so many years for him to find it and, while she’d want him all the same, she’s glad he has yet to forget it. She lets him take control, her wrists coming together under one hand as the other falls to her jaw again.

He dismounts her, his hand pulling her into a kiss as he settles in at her side. Their lips locked, she doesn’t move when his hand drifts away, preferring to try and force her tongue into his mouth defiantly. He appreciates her energy, accepting her in with a husky hum while his hand passes up and down her body in slow, methodical strokes.

As much as she wants to feel him, to make him feel good, Mabel wants this more. It feels wonderful, the way his hand moves over her. Caressing her contours, feeling her skin, finding the little places he’s known for years that she loves to be touched. It’s a selfish desire, but not a truly physical one. He remembers, and that’s what she really wants.

He starts pushing her skirt off and she stops him. “N-no,” she says, yanking his face to hers. She stares at him, a sudden need burning within her.

It’s random, unexpected. A memory flitting through her mind of when they were younger. She had a skirt on and they were by a lake. It was a much shorter one, and a lake is hardly an ocean, but they had made love in a vaguely similar circumstance and that was the only connection she needed.

Recognition sparks in his eyes and he readjusts her skirt. Mabel wants to kiss him in glee, but allows him to roughly flip her over. He tugs her hips up off the bed and tosses her skirt up and out of the way.

Her toes curl as he enters her, a giggle stuck in her throat. Her eyes close and she’s back on that lakeside. They’ve been together a year and it’s the first time they’ve ever really felt free while making love. So many other times they’ve been worried about being caught, but now it’s just them thanks to a magical trick she’s learned for privacy.

Dipper thrusts into her again and again, grunting each time in effort and pleasure. He’s always had to hold back, to restrain himself, but now he can let loose with every bit of passion he ever wanted. She loves it and wishes she could see his face, but the feeling of being taken, being so utterly his, is so much better right now than anything else and she never wants it to end.

Their hips meet each other with loud, wet slaps and she can tell by how his hands squeeze her that he’s close, just like she is. Mabel wants to kiss him so much, but it’s far too late for that. Her eyes are rolling up and she forgets if she’s a girl by a lake or a woman by an ocean.

She goes over the edge, and she loses control of her body. Her mind fuzzes over as pleasure takes hold. Spasms shoot through her and everything feels amazing, especially the new heat entering her as he reaches his own limit. She collapses and feels his weight lower gently onto her.

He rolls to the side and pulls her into a close embrace. She grabs his arms as they spoon and squeezes them affectionately when he whispers, “I love you,” in her ear. Then she sleeps.

She awakens alone, but doesn’t start. She’s learned not to second guess herself. Mabel leaves her bed and heads to the back porch to find him assembling his gear. It’s hard to tell how long she’s been asleep these days. She used to be fairly sure by his progress, but he’s gotten slower and they’ve both slept longer as the years have passed.

Dipper notices her arrival and stops his work. He walks to her and hugs her close, kissing the top of her head. She wraps her arms around his waist and they simply hold each other for a while, enjoying the proximity.

“How many?” he asks.

“Just one,” she answers. She resists adding, “This time.”

“This time,” he says anyways.

Mabel frowns to herself in exasperation. She pulls away and flicks his nose. “You knew I didn’t want to say that. That’s misuse of twin telepathy.”

Dipper smiles, “ _I_  wanted to say it. I want to make sure you know I mean it when I ask. That I care. Even when I… don't…”

Mabel sees the pain in his eyes. It’s the same every time. She hates it because it isn’t truly his pain, or it shouldn’t be. It’s hers, and he wouldn’t feel it if it weren’t for her and her damnable curiosity. He doesn’t want to forget, but he doesn’t get a choice.

That’s the cost of the magic she’s learned. One of them anyways. He’ll forget her. Not totally, but enough. A sort of gnawing gap inside that he can’t explain unless someone points it out. That’s what her symbols are for, though she still doesn’t understand why they only bring back his memory of her when he crosses a threshold. Or why it only ever works when they’re dealing with a storm.

Is it really the only time it works? She doesn’t know. There’s so, so much she doesn’t know and she hates it so, so much. She just wanted to help people when she performed the ritual. Why did she have to lose so much?

She realizes she’s crying in his shoulder and she jerks back. He gives her the “it’s okay” smile and she hates it as much as she loves it. How many times has she given it to him when he thought he was crying on a stranger’s shoulder? When he had no idea why he felt so awful, like a hole was roughly cut from his soul and he had no explanation?

That was before, though. When she followed him. Before it hurt too much to be ignored. It hurts less the new way, where she lets him come to her. Not a lot, but less. They only meet up when his modern technology brings him to where the storm will actually strike. When her signs can guide him to the specific location since she always knows. He only partially understands them, visions drifting just out of his grasp until he finds the final threshold and his memory returns.

Except when he doesn’t find her. When she faces the storm alone, filled with fear for both herself and him. Unsure where he is or if either of them can work properly alone. Terrified that she might die and he will never know. Horrified that she can’t kill the hope that she will since she couldn’t live if he did and she didn’t know.

“Shhh, Mabes,” he soothes. “We have work to do.”

She sniffles and nods, wiping her tears away. Her things are prepared. They have been for days. It’s sometimes annoying that it takes him so long to find out where to go, but science is still catching up to magic when it comes to weather. At least he’s found her this time. She helps Dipper set up his equipment.

It’s amplifiers this time, an extension of their great uncle’s research in Gravity Falls mixing science and mysticism. Mabel knows he has other equipment in Big Chel. Stuff he uses when he doesn’t find her. She doesn’t know how well it works, or if he understands why he keeps the amplifiers when he doesn’t remember, but she doesn’t want to ask. It’s better not to think about how things go during those times, she figures.

It always works best this way. Together. Science and magic, hand-in-hand. She’ll never understand his toys and he’ll never understand hers, but they don’t need to. He has his part and she has hers, two cogs locking together in a single perfect machine.

An hour later and they’re done. She’s cast her spell. His machines have whirred and glowed. They read the winds in their own ways, her by the scent, him by the radar. The sky is still gray and the seas are still rough, but they know they’ve succeeded. It’s arcane to both of them how exactly it worked, but it has. Just like many times before.

Mabel walks to him and they embrace. They share a happy smile. They kiss, slow and long. It’s their reward to each other for a job well done. But they soon break, for now there is other work to be done.

She made her foolish pact when she was young and stupid. She’s learned so much since then, and she still needs to learn more. When Dipper’s here, they work so much faster. On both the storm and fixing her mistake. It’s not just that they work well together, but also that having him with her provides something so very precious.

A goal. A light at the end of the tunnel. A belief that someday, even if they’re gray-haired and frail, they will be together again, and not just for the short periods their work offers. That they can save people without suffering their own loss afterwards.

Tomorrow, Dipper will forget her. He will walk out the door and stand at his van. He’ll turn and give her a queer look, a confused recognition as the magic seeps his memory away. He’ll shake his head and call her “ma’am” instead of “Mabes” as he says goodbye. And then he’ll leave.

But someday, he won’t.


End file.
